


Not So Bad

by Leoporidae_Lagomorpha



Series: Cross My Heart [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hot Chocolate, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6687385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leoporidae_Lagomorpha/pseuds/Leoporidae_Lagomorpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Law loses track of time and walks home in the snow. Kid helps warm him up with more than just hot chocolate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Bad

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this sans porn for a secret santa thing but because im a sin lizard i also have a nsfw version I wanted to share w/ vili & iggy
> 
> Law is a dfab transman, has a pussy and uses he/him pronouns
> 
> Kid is dmab & nonbinary af but uses he/him pronouns
> 
> some implied/referenced character death & child abuse for Law's tragic fucking past

On the good days, Law can still remember the winters he spent with his family. On the good days, he sees the crackle of the fireplace, his mother's hot apple cider served with sticks of cinnamon, the awed look in his sister's eyes as they pressed their noses to the chilled glass of the window as if that would somehow bring them closer to the white wonderland beyond. The good days bring long distant scenes of sparkling Christmas trees, family dinners and wrapping paper. The memories are fuzzy, almost as though appearing through a haze, they blur at the edges melt into each other, the details just out of reach to him. He cannot remember the colour of his mother's eyes and the father of his memories is a faceless giant, a protective shadow, he cannot remember the the man's smile but he can still recall the sensation of large warm hands ruffling his hair. Those are the good days.

On the bad days (and there are bad days, though they happen less and less often), he is thirteen again and living on the streets. On the bad days, the wind is sharp like a blade, it slices through his threadbare jacket, cuts through his skin and chills him to the very bone. On the bad days, the world is nothing but grey, grey sidewalks, grey streets piled high with filthy slush, grey skies and the city's maze of alleys swallowing him up in a sea of endless concrete. On the bad days he is another starving child, all stick thin wrists and exposed ribs, in a city that cares not for the woes of starving children. On the bad days, Trafalgar Law is a monster, a freak, with a face like a mistake, he is small and sickly, full of anger and a crazed madness born of loneliness. Those memories are always clear and crisp like freshly fallen snow, and they are icy shards in his wounded heart, as indelible as the white marks on his skin. On the bad days, he can still smell the ash from the fire that took his family.

On this day, Trafalgar Law is twenty-six years old, coming off an evening shift at the local hospital and weary, weighed down by the familiar bone deep exhaustion of a day at the ER. If you'd asked Law at thirteen years old where he'd see himself in the future he'd have laughed and told you that the dead have no future, but today he is twenty-six, two years into his medical internship with a few people that have cemented their presence in his life as friends and an apartment he can call his. He still battles with chronic insomnia, he is still scarred, battered and broken, but he is mending, slowly but surely he is pulling himself together, gluing back the shattered pieces of his life.

The night air is cold, it has a sharp chill to it that stings his lungs and makes each breath feel shallow. Law curls deeper in his long winter jacket, hides his face behind the yellow and black woollen scarf he received as a gift many winters ago (mostly as a joke because of its unfortunate rather aggressive colour scheme but a gift he is endlessly grateful for on nights like these) and pulls his signature spotted hat more firmly over his messy black hair as he ventures down the empty streets. It's snowing, large lazy white flakes that catch in his lashes and make his tired vision blur even more.

His fingers curl around a familiar shape in his pocket, he shakes out a cigarette from the carton and reaches for his lighter without really thinking. He brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a slow drag, a bad habit born out of a misguided tribute to the man who saved him all those years ago, to the father whose face he still remembers.

_Corazon. Heart. Home._

Law remembers painted lips turned in an idiotic smile, blond hair, his oversized black coat that reeked of cheap cigarettes and bad cologne, that smelled like home and eyes that were much too kind. Cora, whose memory towers over the shadow of the man that was Law's father before he lost himself in the madness, before the fire stole everything from him.

He stalks through the eerily silent streets, the snow crunching under the heels of his boots being swallowed up by the flurry of wind that whips the hem of his long black coat. He stalks through the silence, slices through it like the blade of his scalpel, the red cherry of his cigarette a bright ember in the shadow lined streets. It's unusually empty, even for this time of night and he wonders briefly if the weather is what's keeping people indoors.

He's embarrassed to admit that what finally clued him in is a garish storefront display with the message _'Merry Christmas!'_ painted across the window in an obnoxiously bright shade of red. He fumbles for a second, holding his cigarette between his lips and pulling out his phone, tapping at the display with cold numbed fingers. The screen tells him that it's 11:47 on December 24th and the clock is steadily counting down to Christmas. He's almost tempted to throw it in the nearest snowbank but stops short shoving the slim black phone back into his coat pocket. He takes a deep drag on his cigarette, squares his shoulders and makes his way back to his apartment.

It's not the first time that he's lost track of time and ended up forgetting Christmas. It's never really been at the forefront of his mind. Christmas is one of the things he buried with his family under the ashes of their house, wasn't much point in celebrating alone. It's not the first time the holiday had flown over his head, but it's the first time he's forgotten since Kid moved in.

_Eustass Kid is an asshole._

But he's Law's asshole and despite being a sharp grinned, foul mouthed asshole Law will begrudgingly admit that Kid has grown on him, like a tumour, or a blood sucking parasite. And if hard pressed Law might even admit that he's a tiny bit very in love with the red headed bastard. So he's feeling a tad guilty for not getting Kid a gift, except they don't do gifts or more accurately they haven't up till now, they haven't really discussed it since things started getting kinda serious between them and Law has no idea where they actually stand on the whole gift giving front. But the thing is, he wants to get his...boyfriend? partner? roommate with benefits/all around pain in the ass something for the holidays.

\-----

It's past midnight by the time Law stomps across the threshold of his apartment in a flurry of motion his black coat swirling around his ankles, and brushing away melting snowflakes, kicking off his boots, pulling off his hat and tossing his keys in the dish by the door.

"Yo, you're back!" Eustass mouths through a yawn, shuffling out of the living room scantily clad in nothing but a faded wifebeater and boxers despite the chill outside, his red hair unkempt and hanging messily across his face.

He's not wearing his prosthetic and Law takes a moment to contemplate the scarred, mangled tissue of his shoulder. It must speak volumes about him that Law finds it desperately attractive in a roguish kind of way. He's struck then, Kid disheveled and hardly dressed, by how attractive he finds Kid in general, how much he wants him.

It takes three strides of his too long legs to make it across the room, one to step into Kid's personal space and from then on all he has to do is lean forward for their lips to meet.

Kid is rigid at first, surprised by the sudden kiss but melts into the embrace almost instantly brings his arm around to grip Law's collar and drag him even closer. The kiss is rough, biting like almost every kiss they share and it crackles, sparks with the same electricity that tints the air whenever they clash. Law's hands clutch at Kid's broad shoulders and Kid's fist moves from Law's collar to his hair.

They kiss for what feels like too long and not long enough, enjoying the slick sensation of teeth and lips and tongues. Law doesn't really know how much time they spend standing in the hall making out like the teenagers neither of them have been in years, but he doesn't care, can't find it in himself to mind not when kissing Eustass Kid with anything less than minimal property damage is such a treat.

Law breaks away from the kiss a little breathlessly and Kid a whole lot more awake, his single arm wrapped loosely around Law's waist and his features distinctly playful.

"I've got something for you," voice practically a purr.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Kid says dragging him down the hall and pushing him into his favourite armchair before falling to his knees.

 He makes quick work of Law's jeans, pulls one leg off and lets them dangle from his ankle, he spreads his knees and pulls Law's legs so that he's practically straddling Kid's broad shoulders. He presses his face to Law's stomach nipping his way down the dark trail of hair that leads past the waistband of his black boxer briefs. Kid kisses him roughly through the fabric, ignoring the growing heat between Law's thighs and drawing back to kiss and lick his way up Law's legs from the ankle. It is as frustrating as it is pleasurable and Law squirms as Kid's tongue licks at the old hickeys on the inside of his thighs. He can feel the wetness in his underwear and he cants his hips, a clear sign for Kid to hurry the fuck up. The redhead chuckles hot and breathy against his skin and Law shudders at the sensation. Kid takes his goddamn time, licking and nipping and sucking faint bruises into his skin, Law wants to hit him, but instead he grasps Kid by the hair and presses his face between his legs.

"Eat me out," he growls.

"Why don't you say please?" Kid teases, lips brushing against the growing wet spot in his underwear frustratingly close to where he wants it but just not enough.

"Why don't you hurry up and get your mouth on me before I change my mind and pick my right hand over you," he says acidly.

"No need to get mean," Kid mock pouts, finally tugging off Law's underwear and grinning at the coarse black hair groomed into the shape of a heart.

Law is slick, spread out, Kid's arm clutching his thigh spreading him wider. Kid's mouth is hot, his tongue wet and eager as he laps at sensitive swollen flesh.

"I want to fuck you later," Law gasps making Kid moan against him. "I want to see you get on your knees again and suck my dick, till you're too hard _-fuck-_ too hard t-to stand and you're aching for me, for my dick, and I'll watch you, watch you try not to touch yourself and _-Christ_ ," he swears as Kid practically groans. "I'll touch myself while you squirm, til you're begging to be touched and then I'll fuck you right here, over the coffee table."

He holds back a snarl when Kid pulls back and whispers, "I'll hold you to that." And then Kid pushing Law's leg over the armrest to free his hand and shoving two of his newly freed fingers inside him.

It doesn't take much more than that and Law comes with a hand in Kid's hair, the other leaving bruises on his thigh as he arches off the armchair shaking through his orgasm. His legs are still trembling slightly when he pulls Kid bodily by the neck of his wifebeater and shoves his hand down the front of Kid boxers. It takes a few clumsy strokes and Kid is coming, dick pulsing in Law's hands as he makes a mess of his underwear, slumping over Law's spread form in the armchair.

"Hey," Kid grins, sliding down to press their foreheads together.

"Hey...so I didn't know it was Christmas," Law replies sheepishly.

"Of course," Kid huffs, not sounding as upset as Law had imagined.

Law attempts what would be a nonchalant shrug if he didn't have a sweaty half dressed Eustass Kid all over him and one hand in his underwear like he's hunting for prime real estate and he's got his eyes on Kid's back pocket.

Kid laughs, all breathy and warm and boisterous and leans in for another kiss and Law moves to meet him halfway. It is a perfect kiss, the way perfection is an accumulation of moments and instances that build into kisses like these, kisses that melt the cold from his bones, that wrap him up in memories of apple cider and frost painted windows, that taste like home.

"So," Kid murmurs against his lips, "I was gonna make hot chocolate, want some?"

Law's never been one for sweets preferring to run on a mix of black coffee and too many energy drinks, but the idea of hot chocolate right now is especially tempting.

"Yeah, sure," he nods and Kid pulls himself up, stripping off clothes and using his shirt to wipe away most of the mess before padding into their room to grab a something to wear. Law sidles into the bathroom on wobbly feet, washing his hands and wiping down some of the sweat prickling his skin. He finds one of Kid's shirts that smells relatively clean from the laundry pile on the floor and tugs it over his head. The shirt is too large and it hangs off his stick thin frame like an ill fitting dress so he decides to forgo underwear for the time being and find Kid. Law creeps through the apartment on cold feet, following the sounds coming from the kitchen. Feeling well fucked he slips in, taking a seat at the dining table.

Law catalogues the stray wrench, various bills and research papers that clutter the surface of the table. There's even an outdated copy of National Geographics that he flips through idly while Kid clanks around the kitchen. Kid is, for lack of a better word, big. He is broad and bulky, broad shouldered and muscled, he's big, he takes up space but the way he moves around the kitchen is...almost graceful. Kid makes do with one hand and he moves fluidly as though he's unencumbered by the imbalance, the way he shifts to compensate for his missing limb, Law is kind of captivated by it. It's distracting. Distracting enough that he's surprised by the mug of steaming cocoa that's plonked before him on the table.

"Drink up," Kid says cradling his own mug in one hand.

The liquid is warm and rich with the faintest hint of spice, the warmth is very very welcome and Law takes a few measured sips.

"Merry Christmas," he says setting down his drink.

"Merry Christmas," Kid replies gently putting his mug on the table and draping his newly freed arm around Law's shoulders.

 _I love you_ , Kid doesn't say as he presses a kiss to Law's sweat damp hair.

 _I love you too_ , Law doesn't reply as he leans into the embrace.

All in all it's not a bad way to celebrate the holidays.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoy this gratuitous christmas porn i'm finally posting in april


End file.
